My Twitter buddy Uncle Joey and other Tweeting brushes with greatness

About 30 minutes after hanging up after a very funny, pleasant phone interview with comedian Dave “Uncle Joey” Coulier yesterday morning, I noticed my Twitter feed beginning to blow up. I Tweet every other day or so, and the stories that I write for this here newspaper are also Tweeted out, giving me a pretty decent presence in the world of 140-character witticism. I’m not prolific, but decent.

That is, until Coulier Tweeted the following – “Just spoke with the charming @LeslieStreeter from @pbpulse about my dates @PBImprov DEC 5-8. Tix here” followed by a link to the Improv’s ticket site. It’s a smart thing to do, to remind locals that he’s got an interview coming up in their paper, while attempting to move some tickets, as well as remind fans in all those other towns that he’s out there doing his thing. It also makes him seem like a nice guy who enjoyed chatting with a reporter so much that he Tweeted about it. He’s trying to sell some tickets. But it’s super nice to be complimented, particularly when it’s by a pop culture icon type-person.

The several people that re-Tweeted and favorited Coulier’s sweet remarks apparently enjoyed it to, which reminded me of the other famous people (or their representatives that Tweet for them) who’ve acknowleged my existence on Twitter. They were brief little blips in time that did not translate in lifelong friendships or offers to move to Hollywood and be their personal reporter friends (I don’t know if this is a job, but I’m into it). But they were fun.

My favorite? Last August, my friend, ESPN Radio personality Josh Cohen responded to a Tweet I sent about my prowess in “Molly Ringwald trivia” at the trivia night I was about to attend by including the actual “Pretty In Pink” star and jazz singer -“@MollyRingwald you hear this girl?” Freaking out over the idea that my high school muse might be actually reading this, I Tweeted “I was a little black girl who wanted to be @MollyRingwald. I have photos” to which she responded “You and I are a sort of mirror! I grew up singing Bessie Smith with my jazz dad and wanted (and expected) to grow up black!”